Jacob drove through the full parking lot, impatiently looking for a spot. The only one he could find was a good distance from the entrance to the posh restaurant/nightclub. The fact that he would have to hike a good distance annoyed him enough, but he had also gotten a vague, uneasy feeling as he entered the lot that something was not quite right, although he couldn't readily put his finger on what it was. A few seconds later it struck him; the lighting was much dimmer in the large, spread out parking area than usual. Looking up, he noticed that many of the bright overhanging lamps weren't working; as he got out of his car, Jacob murmured a curse at the maintenance workers, probably incompetent minorities. Westview was normally a safe place to be out in, but more crime was seeping in from the outskirts with each passing day, and it was getting dark earlier now. The lack of overhead light really bothered Jacob tonight, for some reason. Though full of cars, the parking lot was completely void of life this evening; not surprisingly, as it was getting very cold. Inside was the warmth, the pleasure, the good food, the booze... and soon he would be there, enthusiastically partaking with his cronies.

As he bent over to lock his car–door, Jacob suddenly got a whiff of fragrant tobacco smoke coming from somewhere close behind him. Straightening up, he turned around to find a small, well–dressed gentleman standing a few feet away, imperiously holding a large cigar in one hand; he looked at Jacob, nodding at him with a friendly expression.

"Yeah, these idiots forgot to change the lights... 'scuse me buddy, I'm in a hurry..." Jacob started to walk around the little man, but stopped suddenly upon seeing a large ominous–looking van in the distance, accelerating fast out of a dark corner of the lot. Jacob began to feel alarmed as it rapidly approached, then screeched to an abrupt stop a few feet away. A large side door slid open and three scary looking big guys jumped out. Two of them looked straight at him, smiling; the other one quickly scanned the surrounding area in every direction with some kind of small electronic scope. Turning to the well–dressed gent, he nodded his head. "Okey–dokey!" he exclaimed in a cheerful tone.

The small man calmly waved his cigar, then turned and serenely walked away into the darkness as two of the thugs seized Jacob and threw him into the back of the van with ridiculous ease. Giggling softly amongst themselves, they quickly but calmly got in, slamming the doors shut as the car began to speed towards one of the parking lot's exits. Lying in a forlorn heap on the uncarpeted floor, afraid to even move, Jacob's heart began to pound hard and fast in his chest. There were no windows in the back of the van, and curtains prevented him from seeing where they were going from out of the front windshield. Suddenly one of the goons was leaning over him, going through his pockets with gloved hands; removing Jacob's wallet, keys and money, he stuffed them into a bag and tossed it to one of his cohorts in the front. Jacob tried hard to stay calm, but found himself starting to visibly tremble in fear; he couldn't believe it. He was being kidnapped! In spite of the many enemies Jacob had willingly made, he had never anticipated anything like this happening to him. Without moving his head, his shifting eyes began to take in everything around him. It was a dismal scene.

Two of the large goons sat in bean chairs on either side of him, watching him bemusedly; through gaps in the curtains Jacob could see two others occupying the seats in the front. The driver leaned forward, clicked on the radio and one of rage–rock's finest came on, screaming noble expressions of frustration into the van's crowded confines. His four captors seemed pleased with the brain–numbing music; that, or else no one was bold enough to complain about the driver's taste. They drove on through the night, hardly exchanging a word between themselves for what seemed to Jacob like an eternity. His apprehension was growing by the minute, threatening to burst out of his chest. He had never felt so scared in his life; he didn't even want to think about what was coming next.

After a long while someone's portable phone rang out a little chime. "Yeah, I'm there," the man in front answered into the small instrument. A few seconds later the van lurched hard to the left, accelerating for about 30 seconds before finally braking to a smooth stop. Jacob heard the engine shut off. "Well Jake, we're here!" the goon called out in a cheerful voice, as the others laughed in delight. "You can get out and stretch now!" The jovial ruffian opened the front door and jumped out; the driver stayed behind, chuckling quietly to himself.

Jacob heard a sudden loud click, and the side–door slid open. The cigar–smoking gentleman stood outside a few yards back, a smiling goon by his side, looking at him with an expression halfway between sympathy and mirth. "Hi Jacob! They call me Cain. How was that for service... not too shabby, eh? Got you here in record time, I'd say! Could you please step out of the car for a minute, friend? I'd like to chat with you..."

Putting forth a great effort, Jacob got weakly to his feet. He stood there bent over in the van for a few seconds, his legs shaking; then slowly he stepped out, standing unsteadily before his polite magistrate as two more guys jumped out of the van. Jacob found it hard to look up to meet the man's gaze.

The gentleman raised his cigar to his mouth and took several puffs, the fragrant smoke giving a strange lift to the bleak surroundings. All Jacob could make out was that they were in a large, very dimly lit concrete yard encircled by huge hangars, or warehouses; he couldn't tell exactly what the surrounding structures were but their high imposing walls loomed off in the distance in every direction, lending a nightmarish ambience to the depressing surroundings.

The dapper little governor blew out more smoke and answered Jacob's question. "Well, Jacob, it seems there's a certain young lady, a very beautiful young lady, who feels that you have been a trifle... insensitive... to one of her friends! A very dear friend, held in extremely high esteem and much valued by her, you understand. She would like for this... insensitivity, hmmm... to cease and desist... immediately!" Cain smiled amiably, as if he had just presented Jacob with some kind of irresistibly attractive business deal to consider. "That's all!" He tapped some ash from his cigar, then reverentially brought it back up to his mouth for a few more appreciative puffs.

"You've got some experience in politics, don't you Jacob? Just think of this as a sort of administrative cease–and–desist order! It's really very easy to understand." The man turned away for a few moments, looking up at the dark ribbons of clouds drifting across the face of the full moon, contentedly smoking his fragrant cigar; in profile, he looked like the living embodiment of peace and serenity. Then suddenly he turned his head back around again, fixing Jacob with an expression of great concern.

"And you do understand, don't you Jacob? We understand each other very clearly now... don't we?" His piercing blue eyes were boring deep into Jacob's scared green ones. Jacob swallowed, then let out his breath in a sudden rush of relief. He was being let off; all he had to do was stay cool.

"I'll leave him alone! I'll leave the sonofabitch alone! I prom... I promise!" Jacob felt himself beginning to stutter and cry, and made one last effort to get a grip on himself. Taking a deep breath, he looked directly into Cain's face and spoke as loudly and clearly as he could.

"Excellent, Jacob! Good, good! I'll inform my young lady friend that you've agreed to modify your behavior, and won't be worrying her any more. That was a very wise move... you just saved yourself a truckload of worries! And wasn't it easy to do?" The elegant little man was positively beaming again, as if he were Jacob's own father watching him being awarded a distinguished university degree. He chuckled softly and took another puff on his cigar, then abruptly turned on his heel and began to walk away into the gloomy dimness. The three goons all turned simultaneously and got back into the van, slamming doors shut as the engine fired up.

"I'm proud of you, my boy!" The man's voice was receding into the darkness of the dimly–lit yard. Jacob could barely see him anymore. He heard another car quietly start up somewhere off in the distance as Cain's image faded into the blackness; then the revving van grinded into gear behind him and blasted off in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing as well. Jacob could hear it circling him in the dark outer regions of the lot; disoriented, he spun around trying to pinpoint where it was by its sound, losing his balance and his bearings. The van's distinctive roar diminished into the distance and slowly faded away.

Cain's voice came floating back from another direction as if from very far away, even though he had only departed a few seconds earlier. "Believe me Jake, you don't want to ride back with those boys... that music could kill you all of itself!" Jacob heard the faint sound of another door slamming and a car pulling smoothly away. A few seconds later he was left completely alone in an eerie silence, standing in the scary shadows of the huge buildings encircling the barely lit concrete yard. He suddenly noticed that a cold wind had come up and was starting to chill him to the bone. He spun around in confusion, taking in his surroundings as he remembered that the scoundrels had made off with his wallet, keys and money. That thought alone made his heart sink in complete despair; he felt totally helpless without money. Having lost his sense of direction, he had absolutely no idea which way he should walk or where the lot's exit might be, but obviously he had to find his way out to the street and start looking around for some form of life to help him get back home.

Jacob headed off in the direction he had last heard Cain's voice coming from. Looking down dejectedly at the ground, he walked in semi–darkness for a good while, able to see only a few yards in any direction; presently he looked up and saw that he was heading towards an imposing, windowless concrete wall. He stopped and surveyed the building, the top of which towered far above him in a most domineering manner. Turning to look both ways around, he couldn't tell where the massive structure began or ended; he decided to turn to his left and continue walking along the wall, hoping to find the same outlet to the street that his kidnappers had exited through. Stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, he got on with his quest, shivering.

Jacob wasn't used to walking long distances, and as he trudged along the huge yard he soon found himself growing very tired. He saw a change in the lighting a little ways ahead of him and thinking that it might be a driveway, he quickened his walk even though his legs were already getting stiff. But he was disappointed to find that it was only an indenture in the building for a fire escape. Spitting at it, he continued his trek, now starting to think harder about the cause of his present plight. It had to have been Katrina Fury that Cain had referred to as his beautiful young lady friend. She was the one who had set him up to be kidnapped, and she had done it out of her love for that thing, that Mayinkan monster who was Jacob's main source of misery: Carlos Fontana. Jacob's eyes narrowed into little slits as he repeated the name out loud. "Fontana... that goddamned Fontana..." Fontana was the sole cause of all this trouble. Jacob felt his blood beginning to rise as he realized the trickster had gotten him again; but this time it had gone too far. Revenge was overdue, and it would be coming soon, Cain or no Cain. With no one around to hear him, Jacob began to spit his invective out loudly into the night, showering insults and curses down on Carlos Fontana.

Suddenly Jacob stopped his ranting, taking some time to think. He had just escaped severe punishment only a few minutes ago, and now he was dismissing Cain like he was some minor threat; obviously he wasn't. But Jacob could still operate around him; he would just have to be very discreet about whatever he did, that's all. If Cain thought he was some genteel little Katrina, he was wrong; he had money, he had connections, he wasn't shy about using them, and Cain was messing with the wrong guy. As he walked the cracked pavement, dark evil thoughts of revenge began streaming through his mind once again.

Suddenly Jacob stopped; he had come to a long, narrow driveway between two buildings that led to something that looked like a street, though in the darkness he couldn't be sure. He turned and began walking down it. After a minute he could see that he was indeed approaching a public street, very poorly lit and heavily littered with trash. A few seconds later Jacob stepped out onto a filthy, narrow sidewalk that reeked of trash and urine; halting in his tracks, he turned and perused his surroundings. He was in some kind of industrial area, a cluster of large warehouses or factories that seemed to stretch out in every direction for as far as he could see. Looking around for a phone booth, he quickly remembered that he had no money to make a call; he switched to looking for a bus stop instead, and thought he saw one about two blocks from him. He started to walk towards it, but stopped after a while.

Jacob couldn't remember ever taking a bus; he had no idea what to say to the driver when it arrived. If it did arrive... the area was completely deserted, like a ghost town. Not only that, but he didn't even know which direction Westview was, or how far. His kidnappers had driven for a long time, and he had to be very far from home; now he was going to have to try to reason with some stupid minority bus driver who would probably be hostile, and he had no money. His plans for a great evening out with friends had turned into something straight out of a nightmare, and Carlos Fontana was to blame. Jacob felt himself starting to get furious, livid.

He looked up at the dark sky, clenching his fists. "Fuck, I'm in shitsville!!" he screamed, venting his frustration as loud as he could; there was no one around to object to his loud utterance. "Gawddammmmnit!! Fuck all!" he yelled again at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly Jacob stopped his yelling; he thought he had heard the sound of low–pitched laughter somewhere. He stood very still and quiet, straining to hear. Then he heard it again, most definitely; someone was fairly close by, laughing quietly. Jacob immediately began to walk towards the sound, and was soon able to make out the shape of a man sitting in a big pile of cardboard, with newspapers strewn all around him.

His first reaction was paranoia; he had never really been down to the skids, and had no idea what to expect from the people around here. Still, he had no other choice but to try to communicate; it was getting later and colder very fast. Jacob smiled broadly as he approached the man, who was regarding him with a mean smirk on his face.

"Hey buddy, how ya' doin' there?" Jacob offered cheerfully. The man just continued to stare at him, saying nothing. Considering the miserable state of the obviously homeless wretch, Jacob tried to consider what his next words should be, but his mind was in a funk. Shivering in the cold, desperate for help, he simply blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

"Listen pal, I'm in kind of a bind, I think I lost my way... if you could help me get to Westview, I'll give..." Jacob stopped abruptly, silently cursing himself, but it was too late; he had stupidly said the wrong word: Westview. Where the rich people lived. Not surprising Jacob a bit, the man exploded in contemptuous anger.

"WESTVIEW? You from Westview? And you askin' me for help? Well if that don't just take it all, man... what the hell do you want me to do for you, dog? You want me to jump up and call you a taxi, huh? Is that what you want? Gimme' a dollar, motherfucka..." The man rustled up the newspapers around his legs.

"I'll give you twenty dollars if you can just take me to... I need to talk to some..." Jacob quickly shut himself up again; he didn't have a penny on him, and everything he said just seemed to enrage the hard–bitten, down–and–out tramp. The ragged man glared up at him, almost hissing, his face contorted.

"Yeah, gimme' that twenty dollars, dog! You come down here from Westview, screaming at the top of yo' lungs you rich piece a shit, it's your fault people like me gotta' sleep on the street! You know how long I been out doors now? Eight days! Eight nights I slept here 'cuz some motherfucka' like you evicted me from my apartment, cuz I was two days late payin' the fuckin' rent, shit what the fuck you people think, you think everybody's a rich sonofabitch like you? My mama don't pay my rent like yo' whore bitch does, I gotta' pay it myself! You can kiss my ass, you spoiled little soft–life complainin' dog... yeah, gimme' that twenty right here!" He stuck out his upraised palm.

Jacob's famous temper instantly clicked and flared to life, precisely on schedule. "I'm not giving you shit, jerk! You're down because you're a natural–born loser who deserves to be there! Try getting up and looking for a job before you start blaming me for all your fuckin' asswipe problems... I wouldn't give you twenty cents! Twenty dollars my ass, get up and get a job you miserable..." Jacob cut his diatribe short, looking down at the filthy indigent with an expression of disgust; Jacob absolutely despised poverty, and everything that came along with it. The sedentary man recoiled in his newspaper bed.

"What you say, you gawdamned son of a bitch? I'll get up allright... and kick yo' ugly little ass all up and down this pisspot street!" The angry man brushed away the newspapers he had spread around himself and started getting to his feet, presumably to give Jacob the what–for he deserved. Jacob didn't stick around long enough to see what the gent had in mind; spinning quickly around, he began to run down the street. After sprinting about a half–block he looked back, thinking that he had outrun the sickly looking bum, but was alarmed to see the man only a few yards behind and gaining on him rapidly. Jacob ran faster, but could hear the enraged man coming up right behind him, cursing and wheezing; after a few more seconds the tramp got winded and gave up, but not before delivering a hard, solid kick to Jacob's retreating butt.

Putting everything into his flight, Jacob continued running until the the man's curses had faded away; only then did he allow himself to slow down and stop. Collapsing against a street lamp he doubled over, hyper–ventilating and trying to catch his breath. After a few seconds he looked back to see if he had really lost his pissed–off pursuer; seeing nothing but the empty street, he let out a sigh of relief.

However, the nightmare was far from being over. He still had to decide whether he should venture forth in search of assistance, or hide until the morning came. His legs were aching bad, and it was going to be a cold, miserably long walk to any place where he could find help. If he went exploring for the nearest open coffee shop or liquor store he would probably encounter more losers like the irritable bear he had just run away from, and might end up in even worse trouble. He decided that he would strenuously avoid any denizen of this hell–hole whom he came across tonight. If he had to, he would go back to the scary yard he had left and find a safe, dark place to hide until it got light. And he still wasn't quite sure what to do when morning came; hopefully the factory or warehouse employees would be coming to work early, and when they did he would find someone to get him the hell out of this rat–fuck place with its living dead monsters... the like of which he had never experienced in his entire life.

And surely would never have to again, he thought to himself gratefully as he scanned the surrounding area. Places like this depressed the hell out of him, these out of the way centers of industry; he had seen them in movies and news films, but had never actually been to one. Jacob only liked to go to cheeful places where there were no ugly buildings to depress him, or dangerous animals to attack him. And in a little while he would be back in the fast lane, living the high life he was accustomed to. All he had to do was go back to the huge scary yard he had just escaped from and pass a little more time there, huddled up against the cold wind in the darkness, until the bad dream eventually passed.

But come what may, he would never forget this humiliating night, as long as he lived; of that he was certain. And he would never forgive Carlos Fontana... or Katrina, whom he now hated with a passion. Jacob turned and began to cautiously walk back in the direction he had just come from.